


Dance With Me

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-31
Updated: 2006-07-31
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10790703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: It’s been too long since they danced together. Hermione wants Charlie to dance with her.





	Dance With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Inspired by [this](http://www.livejournal.com/community/books_freckles/48811.html) art from [](http://odyssey01.livejournal.com/profile)[**odyssey01**](http://odyssey01.livejournal.com/)  


* * *

“You’re not wearing that dress!”

Hermione resisted a smile as she pretended to ignore the exclamation behind her. Deliberately leaning towards the mirror, she pursed her lips and applied a pale lipstick across her bottom lip. The neck of her golden yellow dress dipped, displaying a view of the tops of her breasts. Creamy skin became more noticeable as she shifted to apply the rarely used lipstick to her upper lip.

“Hermione, are you listening to me?”

“Really, Charlie,” she said in the tone reserved for their children when they being exceptionally petulant, “how could I not hear the whining when it’s right behind me?”

“Whining?” he sputtered, green eyes narrowing as he moved into view of the mirror. “I do _not_ whine!”

“Hmm,” was her only comment, an arching of a brow and a pointed look as she met his eyes in the mirror letting him know he was doing just that at the moment.

“Besides, hearing me doesn’t mean you’re actually listening,” he said with a triumphant little smirk that never failed to distract her with thoughts of kissing it away.

“I was listening,” she said smoothly, blowing a kiss at her image, her eyes meeting his in the mirror, before standing up. Letting the dress fall in such a way to demonstrate just what was meant by the term _clingy_ , she faced him and leaned her bottom against the dressing table. “You were attempting to control what I was wearing. Note that I said _attempting_ because I know you would never presume to give me orders regarding my clothing choice.”

“It’s there and there.” His hands gestured to her breasts and hips, and when his eyes found the slit that went along the side nearly up to her knickers, she thought his face might nearly become the color of his hair. “Bloody hell, woman! There’s no way I’m letting you out of the house in that…that…”

“Dress?” she offered helpfully, her lips curving into an amused smile that was just faint enough for him to not realize she was playing. Had he realized, well, she might not have control and could very possibly end up in bed with the dress never seeing light beyond their bedroom. While that was definitely not a hardship, making love to her husband truly one of greatest activities in the world, she wanted to dance tonight and had every intention of having the stubborn prat glaring at her being her escort.

“It’s not a dress,” Charlie declared in a manner that reminded her of their six year-old son when Connor failed to get his way. “It’s an invitation to sin.”

“Invitation to sin?” she repeated, unable to stop the giggle from escaping her painted lips. “Goodness, Charlie. Perhaps you shouldn’t visit Bill so often. I think you’re becoming a bit dramatic, aren’t you? Next thing, you’ll be claiming the dress is cursed and must be removed so you can break the curse.”

“Right, because Bill is so dramatic,” he said with a roll of his eyes, obviously thinking of his charming older brother for a moment before suddenly glaring. “Hey, wait a minute! Did that wanker attempt the cursed dress shite on you? I’ll hex him for even _thinking_ it, the smug damn prat. Let’s see how handsome he is without all that annoying hair. I’ll cut it off, I will.”

“Ahem,” Hermione cleared her throat, letting the dress fall across her leg to display a hint of thigh and a peek at the lace stockings and garter belt she wore beneath the yellow silk. “Bill did attempt that silly scheme just after I was out of Hogwarts. Had I wanted a charming curse breaker in my life, I’d have allowed the attempt to succeed. As it is, my eye was on a certain stubborn dragonkeeper who, sadly, didn’t even I know existed for another three years.”

“Right, well, I never claimed to be the most observant man,” he muttered, his brother obviously forgotten as his eyes rested on her thigh. They moved along her hip, dwelling on the swell of breasts that were just a bit bigger after having three children than they had been a decade ago when they‘d first started dating, and then caught her eyes. “I’ve got to say that I’m glad you waited for me to open my eyes.”

“Yes, you’re quite fortunate that I’m patient,” she said warmly, her eyes flashing with mischief as she stood and walked to him. “And that I have a particular fondness for these hands.” She put her palms against his before turning in his arms.

Resting against his chest, she moved his hands to her hips. Her left arm rose, fingers tangling in ginger hair as she moved her hips in an imitation of a dance move.

“Just my hands?” he rasped in her ear, his voice an octave lower, husky, warm breath against her neck as his fingers splayed on her hips. She could feel his heat through the thin silk easily, gasping softly as he brought her arse against his groin.

“Perhaps there are other parts of you I enjoy,” she demurred innocently, her right arm moving between them, fingers lightly brushing against the front of his jeans as she again moved her hips to silent music.

“You’re going to kill me, love,” he groaned against her neck, wet lips moving along the pale column of skin as her hair was pushed aside.

“Maybe one day,” she finally said when her reply wouldn’t be breathless and aroused. “But, tonight, I’m busy.”

Rather pleased of herself for not giving in to the temptation of thoroughly enjoying her husband in a house free of children for the first time in a long while, she stepped out of his arms and faced him. Brushing a chaste kiss against his lips, something she knew would drive him crazy because he’d often complained over the years about her ‘brotherly pecks’ when he was her husband, she brushed ginger fringe from his forehead.

“I should go now, love. I left the remains of dinner in the kitchen should you get hungry tonight. As you know, the children are with your parents for the weekend so there shall be no need to worry about bedtime stories or baths this evening. I assume you’ll be very productive here in the house alone since you preferred remaining home instead of going dancing with me. I’m not quite sure where I’ll be going tonight, but, regardless, I’ll be home before morning.”

“Before morning?” He gawked at her, looking far younger than a man who would be forty in less than two years, and she had to admit there was just a slight hesitation in her step as she admired how adorable her husband could be when he was surprised.

“Did you want me to stay out longer, love?” she asked with a batting of her eyelashes, dragging her bottom lip into her mouth and praying that the silly lipstick actually did remain as the packaging promised. “I suppose I could rent a hotel room if you’re so desperate for privacy.”

“Rent a…?” That was the spark that _finally_ lit the fire. She could see the change take effect, watching as his shoulders straightened and his nostrils flared and the nerve near his right temple began to throb. Green eyes pinned her in place as he stalked towards her, his muscular body moving with a grace all his own.

Refusing to back away, she stood firm, giving him a ‘you’re not going to seduce me, Charlie Weasley’ stubborn look that she had managed to perfect over the years. It had been far too long since he’d looked at her like that, she realized, unable to even remember the last time they’d played. Work and children and real life tended to occupy most of their time and drained them to a point where they either crawled into bed, snuggled, and went to sleep, or they made love lacking the same energy and passion they had in their youth. She knew they were older and had a family and couldn’t very well run around and shag in every room of the house whenever they got the urge like they once had, but she missed making him lose control to a point where he had to have her as surely as he needed oxygen.

“You never intended to leave this house in that dress,” he said matter-of-factly, only a slight waver in his stare displaying his uncertainty of that comment. His T-shirt was hugging the muscles in his chest and arms as he moved towards her.

“Didn’t I?”

Smirking slightly at her reply, he now seemed completely confident. His rough palm moved along her cheek before long fingers tangled in her hair, drawing her head back. “No, you didn’t, you manipulative temptress.”

Letting her tongue move along her bottom lip, pleased at the way his eyes seemed to be fighting a battle on whether to look into her own or watch her action, she asked, “Why would you say such a thing, Charlie? I’ve wanted to go dancing for weeks, since your parents asked to take the children for the weekend.”

“Right. _Dancing_ ,” he nodded. His other hand moved behind her, fingers tracing the curve of her spine down to the silk of her dress where it rested above her arse. Pulling her against him, his lips barely touched hers, his tongue tracing hers as he spun them suddenly.

Her hands moved to grip his arms as he moved them, her eyes widening as he refused to lower his head and properly kiss her. Before she could take the matter into her own hands, his hand left her back. The sounds of sultry music surrounded them as he pushed play on the CD player she had set up earlier. Looking into his eyes, she knew she’d been caught.

“Yes, well, I never specified that I wanted to go _out_. I just said I wanted to dance with you. And you, stubborn git, wouldn’t even let me explain before you were saying no and claiming that you don’t dance. The very idea! I remember dancing with you for an entire night during our honeymoon, practically making love on the dance floor as everyone watched, and then moving to our room where we danced to our own music for hours.”

“And you were wearing that gorgeous yellow dress with the strappy back,” he whispered as his head came down, lips moving along her jaw in between words. “The one that had me aching and hard the entire night. I know it’s not our anniversary, love, so why tonight?”

Looking at him, she sighed. “We haven’t made love in weeks, Charlie. It’s been even longer since we’ve played so I just wanted to have at least one night with dancing and passion and love, while the children were away and we weren’t working or so bloody tired it took all of our energy just to make love.”

“Are you, I mean, I know we don’t go at it like rabbits anymore, but we’re older and the kids and work and, well, I didn’t realize you were unhappy,” he finally said. “Even those nights when I’m too bloody exhausted to do more than hold you, I’m happy because you’re my wife and I love sleeping with you, holding you, loving you.”

“I’m not unhappy at all, Charlie,” she protested sincerely, letting her knuckles brush against his cheek. “You, our children, work, our lives…I’m so lucky and fortunate to have what we have. I’m incredibly happy. I just miss it sometimes, I guess.”

“Miss what?” He was clearly confused, his hand moving along her back down to cup her arse, pulling her against his thigh as he began to move them to the sultry tango playing behind them.

“It’s not going to make sense,” she said with a sheepish smile, moaning softly as her leg wrapped around his leg and she moved against his hard thigh.

“Well, I’ve gotten rather good at Hermione interpretation over the years so why don’t you try?” A teasing grin crossed his ruggedly handsome face, his eyes never leaving her face as their bodies began to move to the music.

“Making love with you is amazing,” she told him bluntly, her lips curved into a gentle smile. “Even if we only do it once a week or once a month, I always enjoy it and love having you inside me. I know this month is an exception because of the hatchlings at the Colony and my research for Krisiny being due and the children all walking and getting into mischief whenever possible, but I guess the weeks of not making love have reminded me of what it used to be like, which is silly because we’re not the same young, carefree, able to shag whenever we want couple anymore.”

“I actually did understand that, baby,” he told her with a smile, his hand drifting from her arse to rest on her bared leg, fingers pushing the material higher until the slit was around her waist. “We’ll talk more later. After all, the children are gone until Sunday and, right now, I want to dance with my gorgeous temptress of a wife.”

“Charlie,” she started to tell him he didn’t have to dance with her but his finger covered her lips and he smiled wickedly.

“Shhh,” he whispered before spinning her body away from his, pulling her back tight. “It takes two to tango, Hermione, as I recall you telling me that night when you were teasing me like crazy.”

“You have a very good memory, Charlie Weasley,” she moaned as his hand moved beneath the skirt of her dress, lightly squeezing her arse as he continued moving them around their bedroom to the sultry music.

“I’ve been accused of being rather forgetful,” he reminded her, the two sharing a smile as they both remembered him getting busy at the Colony with a Chinese Fireball and forgetting their first anniversary, an event that had never again been repeated during their eight and a half years of marriage so far.

“Dance with me, love,” she said softly, leaning up and brushing her lips against his. He returned her kiss, her body pressing close enough to feel his arousal, her knickers growing wet as her body responded to his touch and taste. He released her lips, turning her so her back was against him as it had been earlier.

“Always, Hermione,” he growled softly against her neck before tugging the pale skin into his mouth. She gripped his hair, her head falling to the side to give him better access as she ground her arse against his groin.

His hands held her hips tightly as their lower bodies kept rhythm to the music. Every time her hips swiveled, she could feel his erection against her, growing and hardening as they moved. By the time his hand finally drifted up to cup her breast through the thin silk, she was soaking with arousal, her nipples hard, body flushed, and breath coming in soft gasps that added to the music surrounding them. The tango had become a salsa, but neither was paying attention to the music, lost in their own world as they danced together.

“Please,” she whimpered when his other hand slid beneath her dress, rough palm resting on her lower stomach, his fingers teasingly moving beneath the elastic of her knickers.

“Please what?” he asked as he pulled her back and ground against her arse. His voice was low and deep in her ear, teeth nipping at her earlobe, his unshaven jaw rubbing against her skin.

“Charlie,” she whined as her free hand covered his, her dress between them, urging his hand lower.

“Who’s whining now?” His voice was only slightly amused as he reminded her of her earlier accusation. He was too aroused to properly enjoy the turning of tables, but she didn’t care because his hand slid lower, fingers brushing through her curls before teasingly swiping against her wetness.

“Oh, just hush up and make love to me!”

“No,” he purred against her neck, two fingers thrusting into her as he spun them again, pushing her upper body forward just a bit as his hand kneaded her breast.

“No?” Hermione’s eyes flashed open from where they’d fallen half closed. Turning to glare at him, she repeated, “No?”

Green eyes met brown as he smirked. “No.” His lips caught hers in a claiming kiss, her body falling back against his as his thumb brushed over her clit. She gasped into his mouth when she heard the sound of her knickers ripping, his palm now fully against her. When he pulled back, he growled softly. “I’m going to fuck you, baby. Right here, in the middle of our dance, I’m going to bend you forward and fuck you until you’re screaming my name.”

“God, Charlie,” she groaned at his words, arousal dripping down her thighs as she leaned forward for him, grinding her arse against him. His hand rested flat on her stomach, the straps of her dress falling down her arms, her bare breasts hanging down as he unzipped his trousers. “Ow!”

“Sorry,” he muttered against her shoulder as he adjusted position, pushing into her without the awkward angle that wasn’t at all pleasurable.

It was a reminder of just how long it had been since they’d done something like this, she realized. Their actions were familiar, both aroused and excited, but she honestly thought it might have been before Gemma’s birth three years ago that he’d taken her standing up without a wall for support, and possibly longer since he’d taken her from behind.

“Better,” she told him with a soft moan. Turning her head, she caught his lips as he began thrusting into her with more urgency. Neither of them was going to last long. She had been ready to come just from their dance and his teasing touches, and he could tease her for quite a while but rarely stayed hard for long anymore once he was buried inside her wet warmth.

Charlie brushed kisses over the left side of her face and nuzzled her neck as he gripped her hips and pulled her back against him hard. “Love you, Hermione.”

“Love you, too,” she panted as she stopped thinking, just enjoying the feeling of her husband fucking her. He was right to distinguish the two as this was not their slow or sleepy making love that usually occurred. This was rough, passionate, and exactly what she’d been missing even as she loved being with him.

He came after only a few more thrusts, spilling inside her with a low grunt. Hermione tightened around him, milking his release as he kept moving, her own orgasm nearing. He suddenly spun her away from him, his spent cock slipping from her, resting against the denim of his trousers that were barely pushed down around his thighs. The skirt of her dress flew up as he twisted her, showing him glimpses of her wet chestnut curls and glistening thighs as well as the lacy tops of her stockings.

She growled in frustration, so close, so very close, and then he was dancing with her just because he’d come already. Before she could curse him or threaten him with any number of things, he was kneeling before her, his head beneath her dress and his tongue lashing against her clit in perfect rhythm to the fast music she heard playing in the background. “Charlie, God, yes,” she managed to stammer breathlessly in between swipes of his tongue. A sharp inhalation of breath proceeded her orgasm, escaping her lips in a soft cry of release as she clung to his broad shoulders, her body shuddering as she came against his face.

He kept lapping at her through her orgasm, not moving from under her dress until she was pulling him back. Looking up at her, he licked his lips, his hair disheveled and face flushed. Getting to his feet, his arms went around her, his lips meeting hers for a slow kiss. When their lips parted, he rested his sweaty forehead against hers. His lips curved into a slight smile as he said, “God, I love dancing with you.”

She laughed softly, her fingers ruffling his hair before she reluctantly stepped back. Sliding her dress all the way down her arms, she let it pool on the floor at her feet and unfastened her garters. “I’ve missed dancing with you, love,” she said as she tossed the garterbelt on the floor and went to work on her stockings. “However, I don’t recall ever feeling quite so sweaty and sticky in the past. I remember shagging you for hours, lying in bed with the scent of sex and sweat thick in the air, and not wanting to move because there _is_ no place greater than being in your arms, except, perhaps, having our children curled against us as well.”

Charlie grinned, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor. He held her steady as she removed one stocking then the other before shoving his jeans and shorts down. “Well, love, I remember a time when I never wore shorts and could simply unzip my trousers and take you anywhere and everywhere I wanted. Getting older, aren’t we, baby?”

Taking his hand, she walked them into the toilet, starting the shower before facing him. She let her eyes lazily move over his nude body before she pulled him beneath the warm spray. “Yes, we’re getting older,” she agreed before placing a kiss against his lips, knowing he had a few lines in his face but otherwise showed no other real signs of nearing forty. Catching his eyes, she caressed his jaw gently, her lips curving into a smile as she said sincerely, “But we’ll never stop dancing together, Charlie.”

He grinned, pulling her close beneath the shower’s spray, lowering his head to whisper, “No, we’ll never stop, my love,” against her lips before kissing her thoroughly.


End file.
